


The Snake's Aria

by SilverPurity



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Dark, Ferdinand von Aegir & Dorothea Arnault are Best Friends, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Health Issues, Human Experimentation, I know it's not everyone's cup of tea but give it a chance?, Imposters, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, It's Mpreg Taken Seriously, M/M, Mpreg, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Please Don't Hate Me, Torture, no beta we die like Glenn, pregnancy symptoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverPurity/pseuds/SilverPurity
Summary: Hubert makes a deal with Those Who Slither in the Dark. His freedom for Ferdinand's release. His life is changed forever because of it. Whether if it's a good or bad change, only time will tell as a new life begins to form.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 38
Kudos: 143





	1. Chapter 1

"Is this really necessary?"

"Hubert, we've been over this," Ferdinand sighed as he packed away the last of his belongings. "Edelgard was formally invited to attend the christening of Faerghus's new prince. Because of her workload regarding those new Crest-related policies she recently implemented, she's unable to attend. Therefore, I offered to go in her stead. It would not bode well for us if a representative of the Empire did not show up for this momentous occasion."

"I understand the importance of welcoming the next heir to the Kingdom," Hubert replied. "What I don't understand is why no one else sees the absurdity of it all. Thousands will want to attend this event, peasants and nobles alike. Officials from all four factions will be there to witness the Professor dipping her son in water. Any assassin who knows what he's doing will have the perfect opportunity to eliminate someone of considerable standing and then make his escape in the resulting panic."

"...You'd rather that someone not be me. Am I wrong?"

Hubert was silent, but Ferdinand noticed the slight way his shoulders tensed. Hubert had never been one for openly showing his emotions, but his body still reacted to those subdued feelings. Ferdinand had gotten very good at reading him over the course of these past five years. Sometimes he wondered how his younger self would have reacted if he was told he’d be together with Hubert one day. Even today, there were times he could hardly believe it. They had built a strange friendship during their days at the academy. They eased right back into that friendship once the war had ended, as if they had never pointed their weapons at the other’s throat. Their jobs as Edelgard’s Right and Left Hands of the Empire allowed them to grow closer still.

“ _And before we leave this room...perhaps the final bond can be made,_ ” Ferdinand thought, discreetly brushing over the ring box he had kept hidden in his pocket.

He had been stalling long enough, taunted by all the possible scenarios that could happen when he asked that dreaded question. But he was Ferdinand von Aegir! He could handle rejection--or so he told himself. At the very least, if his proposal went awry, he hoped that he and Hubert could remain close friends. Hubert was a good man at his core. He would not abandon this relationship they had crafted over these past few years.

But what if he did?

Ferdinand shook his head to rid himself of the thought, which did not go unnoticed by Hubert. The man raised a thin eyebrow as he watched the Prime Minister let out a frustrated grunt, slapping himself on the cheeks with both hands. Ferdinand looked Hubert dead in the eye, putting on the bravest, most confident face he could muster. His heart fluttered, his knees trembled, and he was certain he would lose heart once again if he waited a moment longer.

“Hubert, there is something I wish to tell you before I leave for the Kingdom,” the von Aegir heir began. “Please sit down.”

Hubert was still giving him a strange look, but complied with his demand. It felt like the room had turned into a blistering inferno and Ferdinand could not help but loosen his collar in a futile attempt to cool himself down. He could feel the beads of sweat forming underneath his gloves as he knelt down to one knee. Jade eyes widened at the move and Ferdinand took hold of Hubert’s hands. He stared back into those lovely green orbs that still captivated him to this day.

“I know you do not particularly care for flowery language or poetry directed towards you, but allow me this selfish request just this once?” Ferdinand watched as Hubert gave a slow, unsure nod. The Prime Minister then beamed, deciding to move forward with the plan. There was no turning back now. “Hubert, when we first met, we couldn’t stand each other.”

"That would be the understatement of the century,” mumbled Hubert.

“Despite that rough start, we overcame that hatred. The differences that once pushed us apart now keep us linked together. This bond has grown ever stronger over these past few years. We have become two halves of a whole and I never wish to be apart from you for the rest of my days.” He pulled out and opened the ring box, presenting it to the man before him. “Hubert, will you do me the honor of being my husband, in both life and in the hereafter?”

Hubert stared at him for a few minutes, wide-eyed and gaping. It was such a strange expression to see upon the Imperial Minister’s face. Very few things could startle or surprise Hubert von Vestra. Apparently, a marriage proposal was one of those things.

“What?” was Hubert’s dumbfounded reply.

“I asked if you would marry me,” Ferdinand quietly repeated. “Or perhaps I should’ve put it in writing?”

“I know what you said. What I don’t understand is _why_." Hubert's gaze fell. "My loyalty remains with Lady Edelgard. I have sworn to stand by her side until the end. I am a murderer; a snake that lurks in darkness until it is time to strike. Someone like me doesn't deserve someone like you. As for your station, I cannot provide House Aegir an heir, adopted or otherwise. Children are frightened by the mere sight of me. I know being a father has long been a dream of yours. Should you take this path, you will be ending your family line."

“Hubert, if I must choose between loving you and my duty as House Aegir's heir, then I choose you. Every time." Ferdinand smiled, rubbing soothing circles on Hubert's gloves. "There are others who carry Cichol's Crest and Aegir's blood. House Aegir shall live on even if I sire no children. And regardless of what you believe about your own worth, you are a devoted, strong, and kind man. You are not tainted simply because your hands are painted with the blood of your enemies. Sothis knows that mine are just as stained as yours. You deserve happiness just as much as anyone else. Please, let me be the one who makes you smile and dries the tears you never allow yourself to shed in the open. I will gladly do so for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”

Hubert scowled at him, but there was a watery sheen over his eyes. “You foolish, shameless romantic…"

Ferdinand chuckled. “That does not sound like a ‘no’ to me.”

Hubert shook his head, smirking a bit. “It wasn’t.”

“Then...may I?”

Hubert gave a slight nod despite his hesitation. Ferdinand gently took hold of his left hand, slipping off the pristine white glove and revealing the scarred hand it had been hiding. Hubert once loathed these scars. His hands had been colored black from his own dark magic, forcing it out when necessary despite his magical exhaustion during those times. There were residual cuts and burn marks from battle and his own dubious work as Edelgard’s shadow. Such hands were not meant to touch someone pure like Ferdinand, who’s light was comparable to that of the sun. But Ferdinand cherished these scars. They were a testament to Hubert's hard work and the sacrifices he made to protect what mattered most to him.

The von Aegir heir placed a gentle kiss to ash-colored knuckles before sliding the simple diamond ring onto Hubert's finger. It slid on effortlessly. A perfect fit.

Ferdinand rose from the ground, pulling Hubert up along with him. Arms circled his fiancé, bringing him into a warm embrace. He could feel hands running through his hair, which had become somewhat of a guilty pleasure for Hubert.

"Come back safe, Ferdinand."

"I will. I promise."

* * *

She held his hand, gawking at the ring that had not been there the last time she saw Hubert gloveless. "Ferdinand proposed to you!? When did this happen!?"

"A few weeks ago?”

“And you didn’t think to tell me!?”

“I thought it inconsequential. Such news would have only been an unnecessary distraction. Lady Edelgard, why are you--?"

"An unnecessary--? Hubert, this is your future we’re talking about. Of course it’s important to me." She looked so enthused by the news. Hubert hadn't seen her this happy in some time. Her workload often caused her to miss out on social gatherings or simple alone time with her wife, Dorothea. To see her look so joyful for him; it was a pleasant sight to see. "Honestly, it's about time! Please tell me you said yes right away."

"I didn't." He replied, which garnered an exasperated groan from the Emperor as she slumped in her chair and palmed her face. He smirked slyly and she took notice of it. "But I still accepted his proposal without too much issue."

She lit up again. "I'm glad. Ferdinand was so worried that you were going to reject him, even when I told him such a fear was baseless. I told him that if he danced around the issue any longer, I was going to propose to you for him."

Hubert balked. "If you said exactly what he told me that day, I would've brought you straight to Linhardt. I would not want to face Dorothea's wrath for stealing her wife away from her."

"Good thing I didn't have to."

"Indeed."

"So, how goes his stay in Faerghus? I assume Ferdinand has been enjoying himself? It has been some time since he's seen his Blue Lions classmates."

"He said he would be returning in two weeks time." Hubert looked over the lengthy scrawl again. "His most recent letter brings good tidings. The celebration was a success. No incidents of any sort. Both the nobles and commoners danced and feasted together as equals. Apparently, Felix and Sylvain have finally tied the knot. Claude and Ingrid seem to be doing well despite their long trip to the Kingdom from Almyra. Lysithea hopes you are doing well and she's looking forward to seeing you during her and Lorenz's upcoming diplomatic visit to Empire. King Dimitri and the Professor send their love and support and they understand your absence. Supposedly, they wish to name you Prince Leon's godmother. Should anything happen to them, they are entrusting you with his safety and upbringing."

"Me? Godmother? A high honor indeed," she mused, soft smile gracing her stern features. "They both have so much faith in me…"

"It is faith that has been well-placed. If not, we wouldn't be standing here discussing this very matter."

"Every day, I am grateful for the mercy they showed me. And every day, I hate myself for what I almost did…"

"But you didn't retaliate. You accepted the hand that reached out to you. Because of you, the Empire lives on and it will continue to become a haven for those with Crests and those who are Crestless. You have allies that span the farthest reaches of Fódlan. You had the strength to reveal that which had been plaguing you all these years. We will eliminate the ones who slither in the dark. Byleth, Dimitri, and even Claude have sworn to aid you in this endeavor."

"I know, but...I still worry," Edelgard sighed. "I know how they work. I betrayed them. Even if _that man_ is no longer leading them, they will make sure that I suffer for such a transgression. They will stop at nothing until they see all of Fódlan in flames."

"Whatever they have planned, they will not succeed. On my life I swear it, Your Majesty."

She shook her head. "Hubert, your life is precious and you cannot swear it to me alone anymore. You have another person you must live for. I hope you will remember that."

Hubert looked down at the golden band that now adorned his finger, absently rubbing a thumb over it. "I know."

* * *

Two weeks passed and Ferdinand was nowhere to be seen.

His letters suddenly stopped coming altogether. Another week passed with no update on the whereabouts of the Prime Minister.

Hubert knew something was amiss and the gnawing worry in the pit of his gut only grew with each day that passed. He smoothed out the last letter he had received before the strange silence began. Just a general report on the villages he passed by in the Kingdom as he made a brief stop by Garreg Mach. The Officers Academy was flourishing once again and the monastery had been nearly restored to its former glory. Some eager students from the Empire had been particularly intrigued by a visit from the Prime Minister and Ferdinand had indulged them by showing off some lance techniques he had learned from Professor Byleth and Dimitri during his time in the Blue Lions class.

_I look forward to seeing you, my dear nightingale_ \--Hubert rolled his eyes upon seeing the word, but he supposed it kept the receiver’s identity vague enough if the letters ever became compromised. _Once I return, we can discuss our union further. Until then, Your Sun._

There was nothing. Not even a hint of something suspicious hiding within the carefully chosen words. Hubert had read over it at least a dozen times, hoping to find something that could explain Ferdiannd’s sudden disappearance.

“Hubert.”

“Your Majesty.” He turned around, easing into a proper bow as Edelgard entered the room. When he lifted himself back up, he noticed the perturbed look upon her face. “Have you something to report?”

She glared at the ground, her grip tightening and crinkling the letter she held in her hand. She held it out to him, barely-restrained fury burning in her eyes. “I found this in my office. The guards reported that no one ever entered in or out of it while I was not there. It's from _them_. Read it.”

Feeling something curl around in his chest, he took the paper and began to read. His own hand tightened on the document, visibly shaking from the rage that started to fester in his heart.

_Traitors,_

_The sun will be snuffed out. Bit by bit, we will drain its light until it is a mere shell of its former self. If you do not comply, then we will make use of the sun until it dies._

_If you wish to save the sun, then Her Majesty must relinquish her power to the shadows._

_We shall await your answer where a river of the Goddess’ blood once flowed._

Hubert thrust the letter back to Edelgard before the magic sparking from his fingertips damaged it. He couldn't stop himself from slamming his fists into his desk, pure unadulterated hatred coursing through his veins. The wood creaked dangerously from the sheer force of the blow. Hubert took in deep breaths, trying to calm his trembling form.

“I’ll kill them,” he swore, his magic burning black holes into the desk. “I will not let them take anything else away from me. They will pay dearly for this.”

“I had a feeling they’d do something underhanded eventually. I never wanted to involve Ferdinand in all of this…”

“You must not go, Lady Edelgard. Do not give in to their demands.”

She gave him a worried look. “But if we do nothing, they might do the same thing to Ferdinand that they did me and Lysithea. I would never forgive myself if I allowed such a tragedy to take place again.”

“I will take care of it,” Hubert promised. “They made a grave mistake taking him hostage. And I intend to use that to my advantage."

“Hubert, I know you love him and would topple kingdoms to get him back if necessary, but don’t do anything rash. You know what they’re capable of. I want you both to come back alive and I want Fódlan to remain intact. The people's trust in the Empire is still fragile. We cannot afford to lose that trust. Not now."

“They wouldn’t dare rain javelins of light upon us unless they want me to discover their stronghold.” Hubert gave her a soft smile, but it did not reach his eyes. “I will bring him back safe, Your Majesty. You have my word.”

* * *

The Red Canyon.

Hubert never liked the place. There was an eerie air to the entire area that chilled even someone like him to the bone. It was as if the ghosts of the long dead civilization still haunted the land, discouraging all who were foolish enough to desecrate their home.

He could only imagine Rhea’s fury for seeing a heretic such as him step foot upon such “sacred soil”. He scoffed mostly to himself. The former Archbishop was no more. Byleth had taken over her role and the Professor had been doing her utmost to change the Church of Seiros from within. When the Professor discovered her origins once Rhea came clean before her death, Byleth had shared this information with the four leaders. Naturally, Edelgard, Dimitri, Claude, and Lorenz were shocked to hear the news. To think the woman was trying to resurrect Sothis herself; she had been no different from Arundel in Hubert’s eyes and he was all the more grateful such scum no longer plagued the world.

Of course, that same information was also what bothered him about the Red Canyon. Sothis’s children were slain en masse by the King of Liberation and his followers, their hearts and bones used to craft the Heroes’ Relics. Having been one of the few survivors of the massacre, Rhea had described her home as being a river of blood. Such wanton destruction all done by the hands of the ancestors of those who slithered in the dark.

He stood alone, atop the stand that was once used by the Professor as a safeguard when she suddenly found herself surrounded by beasts. He would not be caught off guard. He strained his senses, feeling for the slightest disturbance. He would be ready for when they made their move.

“Hubert von Vestra. A pleasure.”

He turned his head, finding a warlock standing not a few feet from him. Hubert hadn’t even heard him, let alone felt the familiar sting of magic in the air. When had he appeared?

“You. Myson, if I recall correctly?” he replied. “Tell me, how much of your organization has already fallen under your control?”

Myson sucked in a breath, pale fists shaking slightly at the insult. “You would do well to remember your place, von Vestra. Unless you wish for something unfortunate to befall your Prime Minister.”

“You are teetering on the edge of a precipice between survival and utter destruction. You would do well to remember your own place."

Myson shrugged off the thinly veiled threat with ease. “Where is that woman? Or has she sent you in her stead, too frightened to face her makers?”

“ _Never_ insult Her Majesty in front of me. It will be the last mistake you ever make,” Hubert seethed dangerously. “You made a grave miscalculation in abducting Ferdinand von Aegir, Myson. Thales would never have made such a grievous error.”

“Oh? And what makes you so certain of this?”

A cruel smirk spread across his lips. “Are you truly this daft? Ferdinand is Adrestia's Prime Minister; the Left Hand of the Emperor herself. He is beloved by the people inside and outside of the Empire. He was once a student of the Blue Lions, led by none other than Archbishop Byleth and King Dimitri. He is friends with many of the Kingdom’s nobles. He is also a close friend of Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, who now runs the lands of Leicester. And Lorenz still keeps contact with Claude von Riegan, who now rules the land of Almyra. They all will take notice of Ferdinand’s absence. They will search the entirety of Fódlan for him if necessary. Even if you were to have an imposter take his place, you would never be able to fool everyone. Someone would notice and it would only be a matter of time before your so-called sanctuary would be discovered. You've damned yourself; hoisted by your own petard.”

Myson grinned. "So certain of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Keeping him is not worth the risk. If you have any semblance of self-preservation, you will return him posthaste.”

“Minister von Vestra, we knew exactly what we were doing. After all, you’re here.” The man’s smile twisted ever larger. Hubert was silent, glaring at the mage as he watched him chuckle. “Everything you said was true...if the inheritor of Cichol’s Crest was what we were truly after.”

Hubert felt weapons poke into his back. Once again, there had been no warning. No sign or sound of any disturbance. He turned his head slightly, spotting the pale-skinned Mortal Savants that had their blades and magic directed at him, poised to kill. 

"I propose a trade. His life for yours. A minister for a minister, if you will."

Hubert froze. “What?”

"What we really wanted...was you, von Vestra. I knew you wouldn’t allow von Aegir to remain in our hands,” Myson explained. “The Emperor's Right Hand. You who thrives within the shadows, whose work the Emperor has little reign over. We shall make good use of your position and Her Majesty will be none the wiser. With you out of the way, we will have no fear of being discovered. We shall be free to rain hell down upon all who follow the Fell Star."

“And if I refuse and simply kill you here and now?”

“Well...if von Aegir’s life means so little to you and your Emperor, then I suppose we have no further use for him. We’ve already drained his blood, so we already have everything he could possibly provide us. And only a spare few of us know of his location. Even if I fall here, the others shall ensure that you never find a body. No trace of him will remain.”

Hubert’s fists clenched so tightly he could feel his fingernails piercing through the cloth material of his gloves. They had him and they knew it. Duty told him he must abandon Ferdinand for the sake of the Empire. His work would give them too much of an advantage, too much free reign right under Edelgard’s nose if they seamlessly slipped into his place. They could end her life and so many others with ease. But if threatened by the whole of Fodlan chasing them down, these vile creatures would rain down javelins of light upon their enemies. The people would naturally assume it had been an act of violence committed by the Empire. Those who slithered in the dark had once been their allies, regardless of Edelgard’s feelings on the matter. He could not risk destroying what remained of Her Majesty’s reputation. He also knew his heart would never allow him to leave Ferdinand to this fate. Dying, cold and alone, with no hope of ever being found. Ferdinand was light personified. What was a shadow compared to the necessity of light?

The ring hiding under his glove suddenly felt so heavy.

“Return him to the Empire unharmed,” Hubert said, voice completely dead. “Do this and you have a deal.”

“A wise choice, Hubert von Vestra.” Myson looked all too pleased with himself. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure your stay...shall be one to remember _always_.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Lotsa dark content ahead! There is graphic depiction of violence and straight up murder at the end! Proceed at your own risk!

He’s not sure where he is. He's not sure how long it's been since he's last seen sunlight. He’s not sure who these people are. They reminded him of Kronya, Solon, and of the mages they once fought as they stormed Edelgard’s throne room. They poked and prodded him, siphoning his lifeblood for some sinister purpose or another. He could feel the exhaustion that resulted from such blood loss. How much longer would they continue to keep him until he could provide no more?

His thoughts were interrupted by the creak of a door. Ferdinand squinted through the darkness, hearing boots clicking against the floor. They stopped just before him. Then knees entered his vision. A glove ran through his tangled mane of hair, its touch surprisingly gentle compared to the rough handling of his jailers.

“Ferdinand?”

His breath hitched. He knew that voice. Despite the heaviness that plagued his entire body, he forced himself to look up. He spotted concerned jade eyes looking back at him. He saw the sharp cheekbones, the wavy locks of midnight hair, and the perpetual frown that would adorn his lover’s face. Ferdinand couldn’t stop the tears from forming. He mustered all the strength he had and launched himself at Hubert. The mage was startled by the action, but did not shove Ferdinand away.

He grabbed the back of Hubert’s neck in a vice like grip, his voice icy. “What’s my favorite tea blend?”

“The Southern Fruit Blend.” Hubert replied unflinchingly despite the threat of having his neck snapped.

“Why do I have long hair?”

“You never got around to cutting it due to the stress of wartime. You hated how many people assumed you had done it to be fashionable.”

“What’s the name of my preferred steed?”

“Aurora. Though I recall you debating on her name for months when she was still a foal.”

Ferdinand could feel his heart hammering in his chest. “Remove your gloves.”

Hubert was deliberately slow and careful with his movements. He pulled off the right glove. Ferdinand saw the familiar scars snaking across skin, eyeing the ones he would always kiss in particular. Then Hubert pulled off the left.

Even in the darkness, the golden band was still visible.

Ferdinand let out a shaky breath, finally allowing himself to cry. It wasn’t an imposter like Kronya or Solon. It was really Hubert. He clutched Hubert like a lifeline and the mage returned the gesture, arms wrapping around him and holding him tenderly.

“Hubert…you’re here…you’re  _ here _ …”

“I would never leave you to a fate such as this,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. The familiar gesture brought Ferdinand an immense amount of comfort. “How are you faring?”

“I’ve been better,” Ferdinand answered with a tired voice. “But now that you are here…I'm so happy I could faint!”

"Perhaps you should. You’ve lost a lot of blood. Rest for now. I do not want to lose you now that I’ve found you.”

“You are right…” Ferdinand could feel his eyes drooping once again, his ever present exhaustion pulling him back into the blissful abyss of slumber. "Promise me you will still be by my side when I wake?”

“I promise, Ferdinand. You have my word.”

Ferdinand shut his eyes, laying his head in Hubert’s lap and letting the other’s warmth wrap him in a sense of comfort and security. As he was lulled to sleep by fingers threading through his hair, he never saw the cruel smile that spread across his fiancé’s face.

"Sleep well, my love."

* * *

When Ferdinand awoke, he was surrounded by warm blankets and the soft beams of sunlight streaming through his window. The smell of chamomile tea filled the room, mixing with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. He groaned as every bone and muscle in his body creaked from disuse. He blinked, trying to clear the fog from his vision.

"You shouldn't move."

Ferdinand turned his head towards the voice. Hubert was looking over some documents, coffee mug in hand. He set down the papers and the mug, picking up the cup of piping hot tea that had yet to be touched and bringing it over to Ferdinand. The cavalier sat up and gratefully took the cup, wincing at how much his hands trembled. Gloved hands held his own steady as he slowly brought the cup to his lips. The warm liquid dripped down his dry throat. Once he had finished, he lowered the cup into his lap.

"Hubert, how long have I been asleep?"

"Roughly three days. I'm amazed you're even awake right now," Hubert explained. "Such extensive blood loss should have killed you."

Ferdinand chuckled. "Well, if there is one thing I learned in the war, it is the fact that I am not easy to kill."

"Apparently." Hubert's gaze softened. "I'm glad you're alright."

"Where did you find me?"

"Far to the west, where Faerghus borders the sea." His hands clenched the sheets tightly. "Forgive me for taking so long to find you, but your captors were particularly elusive. My normal methods of  _ persuasion _ did not faze them, so I had to do something a little more...drastic to convince them. They shall never see the light of the sun again."

“How long has it been since I was taken captive?”

“Roughly three weeks.”

“That long? I’m so sorry to have worried you.”

“So long as you are safe, that is all that matters to me.”

Ferdinand smiled. “You’re being surprisingly sweet, Hubert. Maybe I should get kidnapped more often?”

Hubert glowered at him. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m teasing. Honestly, it was an experience I’d rather not repeat.” He shivered as he remembered the sick feeling of needles sliding through his skin. “I am grateful you found me when you did. I shudder to think of what those dastards would have done to me had I remained there.”

“They have paid the price with their lives. Spare them no more of your thoughts. For now, all you need to focus on is your recovery.” Hubert stood up from the bed. “Linhardt made some medicine to help build your blood stores again. I left it by the teapot. Take it with your meals.”

Ferdinand blinked. “You are not staying?”

“As much as I would  _ love  _ catering to your every whim, there is still work to be done--yours and mine both.” Hubert smirked at the disappointed look on Ferdinand’s face. “But I will visit when I can. After all, we still must plan our... _ union _ , as you so called it.”

The Prime Minister’s face turned a bright shade of red. Hubert leaned down, capturing him in a brief kiss before turning to leave for the door. Ferdinand watched Hubert’s cloak disappear as the door closed.

He briefly touched his lips. “Why was his kiss...so cold?”

* * *

Hubert cursed himself for the umpteenth time as blades dug into his back, leading him towards some unknown destination. They had gagged, blindfolded, and drugged him with an unknown substance the moment they had the chance--something he had not built up a resistance to. They had taken everything during his time inebriated, even his wedding ring; the one thing that could convince Ferdinand that an imposter was truly Hubert von Vestra. His stomach churned at the very thought of Ferdinand joyfully smiling when he saw his rescuer, not knowing it was a fake.

Ferdinand would be safe, he reminded himself. Those who slithered in the dark would not strike right away if they wanted to fool the Emperor and her Left Hand. He had to have faith that Ferdinand, Lady Edelgard, and his other companions would know him well enough to notice any slight differences his imposter showed. If he could not claw his way out of this dark hell, then they were his only hope. His hands were--quite literally--tied.

He wasn’t certain how long he had been held prisoner. It was impossible to tell where he was going, let alone how much time had passed since he had agreed to Myson’s deal.

His thoughts were interrupted as he was shoved forward, landing roughly on something flat and metal. He was then turned around and he soon had multiple arms keeping him pinned as they undid his rope bindings. They buckled him down, metal cutting deep into his wrists as they brushed against the magical seals they had placed on him. They soon did the same for his ankles. When they finally lifted the blindfold, all he could see was darkness and the barest glint of lab instruments in the corner of the room.

A deranged grin spread across the face of the man closest to him, a scalpel and knife in hand.

_ For the Empire, _ Hubert reminded himself as the sharp edge punctured flesh.

_ For Her Majesty, _ Hubert mentally repeated as they cut him open, bit by bit.

_ For Ferdinand, _ Hubert clung to his name even when all he could hear in his mind was his own screams.

* * *

Slice open. Stitch back together. Crudely heal the wounds before cutting into flesh again.

This became his routine.

Hubert briefly wondered if this was what Edelgard had to go through when she had been taken by Arundel and his rage burned hotter than ever before.  _ That man _ , Duke Aegir, and his own father willingly allowed such atrocities to take place. If only his waning strength could match his desire to maim every single one of those vile creatures that continued to treat him as nothing more than a lab rat.

“He is losing too much blood during the tests. We don't need him dying just yet. Administer only what is necessary and what is most compatible with the subject.”

He could feel something slide under his skin and release something warm and all at once his entire arm was on fire. Hot blazing heat coursed through his veins and it seared his insides as it spread across his body. He could feel the sweltering flame as it pulsed along with his heartbeat, traveling down to reach even his fingertips and toes.

He bit down on his lip, drawing blood once again even as his whole body jerked and twitched unnaturally in response to the injected substance. He would not let them hear his cries. They would not break him. He would survive and he would get his revenge on every single one of them.

"Subject displays a negative reaction to Charon's blood. Body convulsions signifying the rejection of the Crest-bearing blood. Marking as a failure. Beginning Test #2: Daphnel's blood."

As so down the list of Crests they went, each administration of foreign blood more agonizing than the last. They went through the 10 Elites and even some names he wasn't familiar with. They were now on the Four Saints. Somehow, Cethleann's blood was the worst yet. A dark mage such as himself was the exact opposite of such a divine being. It felt as if the Saint herself was piercing him with her holy powers for daring to fuse a part of her into him.

"Beginning Test #17: Cichol's blood."

The needle pierced the same swollen and throbbing area on his arm, delivering yet another dose of blood. Hubert braced himself for another fit of unrelenting heat, but this surprisingly did not happen. It seemed to have the opposite effect and was soothing away the terrible fire that had been plaguing his body since the experiments started.

"Subject is unresponsive after initial injection. The body seems to have accepted Cichol's blood. Noting down the blood was taken from a minor Crest bearer."

Minor Crest bearer.  _ Ferdinand's _ blood. Hubert almost wanted to laugh at the irony.

"Continuing on to Test #18: Seiros's blood."

And the blazing agony returned.

* * *

"I have administered a small dosage of blood to the subject, each one containing one of the twenty-two crests that exist. All but Cichol's were rejected by the subject. Further tests will be done using Cichol's blood."

Hubert wasn't sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he could consider it the universe's strange way of letting him know that Ferdinand would always be with him. On the other hand, those who slithered in the dark were attempting to use that blood to do  _ something _ to him. Whether if it was to test if a Crestless person could still obtain a Crest or if they simply wanted to use him as their plaything, he didn't know. Their primary goals had always been somewhat of a mystery to him. All he did know was that they desired revenge against the Church of Seiros. Arundel had always been purposely vague on what his overarching plan was. Now that the man was dead, there was no way to know for certain what their current course of action was.

They left him alone after they had finished their tests. He could feel his muscles spasming against his will as he curled into himself. Salt from dried tear trails mixed together with the taste of copper--the taste of his spilt blood. His throat was raw from screams he never wanted to release. The floor felt frigid against his clammy skin and threadbare, blood-crusted coverings.

This was only the beginning. Hubert knew it. So he pictured the table he and Ferdinand would always sit at during their teatime together. Light would shine upon orange locks, brightening the visage of his lover and bringing out the slightest of freckles across his nose. Ferdinand would laugh at something or other, his bright smile shaming even the sun itself.

For a moment, Hubert could forget he was potentially miles away from his lover, locked in some godforsaken cell where no one ever would find him. For a moment, he could imagine Ferdinand's voice ringing in his ears as he sang songs from his favorite operas. He could see the delicate dusting of pink on his cheeks whenever he was embarrassed or angry. He could feel the gentle touch of fingers as they danced over his skin, cherishing every part of his body no matter how ugly Hubert might've believed them to be. The images and sensations were so vivid Hubert could almost feel Ferdinand's soft lips pressing phantom kisses against his neck.

But there was no one there to whisper tender words of comfort into his ear.

* * *

They began more tests in earnest.

Simply injecting the blood into his system wasn't enough. They began carving strange glyphs into his flesh, painting symbols of all sorts onto his skin using Ferdinand's blood. Then they would activate the runes using a spark of dark magic and this usually resulted in more pain and suffering for Hubert as his insides twisted and burned in response. All of this was done in an effort to find the most efficient way to fuse the Crest into his body. He had heard whispers and implications they had been able to do it before with ease, but the technique had been lost to time. These experiments were their attempt to recreate those methods.

They marveled at how much the human body could take, pleased that he still reacted to their violent stimuli despite Hubert’s mental desires to remain as impassive as possible. When he wasn’t strapped to an unforgiving table, he would feel over the entirety of his confined cell. The material was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was smooth to the touch and the strength was comparable to metal, but it wasn’t like anything he had ever encountered in his life. Over time, confidence whittled down and transformed into desperation as he went searching for any slight disfigurement in the architecture, hoping to find some sort of weapon or tool he could use to his advantage. He eventually discovered that his options were limited. Other than the door that kept him locked inside, there was nothing he could find. No trump card he could pull on his captors and make his escape. All he could potentially utilize was his own two hands, his magic rendered useless due to the seals that had been seared into his wrists. They always came for him in groups, his struggles amounting to nothing due to their combined strength. He poured over countless plans in his mind and none of them seemed feasible with the limited resources and time he had.

“I heard that Prime Minister von Aegir is getting married,” the scientist said as they drew more symbols onto his stomach for his latest administration. He knew the bastard was trying to get a rise out of him. He refused to let the man win in this unspoken challenge. “To Imperial Minister von Vestra of all people. He has horrendous taste in partners. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Hubert remained silent.

“How does it feel? Knowing your beloved is getting married, yet you won’t even be the one standing at the altar? Knowing that he doesn’t suspect a thing and has left you to die here?”

Hubert bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the volatile emotions frothing deep in the pit of his gut.

“I bet you’re wondering how long you’ve been trapped here.” The man got near his ear, voice dripping with venom. “It’s been  _ months _ . You’ll never see your Emperor or your beloved ever again. They will die and then we will make sure you will never be able to join them. We will carve out his heart on his wedding night. Then we will hoist Her Majesty’s head on a pike for all to see. They will be examples of what happens to those foolish enough to face us.”

The spike of rage that coursed through him at the threat was what finally made him snap. A surge of strength flowed through his arms and one of the metal clasps keeping his wrists in place broke. He thrust out that same arm towards the vile scum, grasping onto the pale neck with an iron grip and started squeezing it. The pathetic wretch went wide-eyed as he clawed at the hand that was strangling him. Seeing his tormentor slowly die in front of him was cathartic and Hubert couldn’t help but feel a sadistic smile spread across his face. He would make the bastard suffer. For all the times he whispered tortuous tidbits of what was going on in the outside world, whether if they were truth or lies. For all the times Hubert was cut into like a sack of meat, his intestines mere toys for the filth to mess with. His grip tightened and the struggling idiot tried to beat him back onto the table using punches Hubert could barely feel due to the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. The utter euphoria upon seeing his captor suffer flooded his mind and all he could focus on was witnessing the light leaving their eyes; so much so that he never noticed that the aimless flailing caused the glyphs on his abdomen to smear and spread, altering their shapes and functions.

Magic sparked from the experimenter’s hands, directing it towards Hubert in a desperate attempt to free himself. The spell collided with the runes, activating them. They glowed a bright purple and soon his torso was burning burning  _ burning _ . He had to let go of his tormentor, instinctively clutching the area where the intense throbbing was coming from. With each second that passed, the stinging pain seemed to get exponentially worse. A blood-curdling scream finally erupted from his throat and tears began to leak from his eyes. The sensation consumed him; all he could feel was the blistering inferno his midsection had become.

The runes faded away, vanishing into skin as they always did once the spell had run its course through the body. He was left panting and shaking, nausea bubbling up from his lower gut as it mixed with the vicious heat that continued to pulse inside his abdomen.

“Subject’s strength seems to have increased.” the dark mage rasped out, rubbing the hand-shaped splotch darkening his pale skin blue. “It seems Saint Cichol has taken a liking to you. I suppose we will have to rectify that, won’t we?”

Hubert couldn’t answer. The moment he opened his mouth, he heaved and his stomach expelled everything inside it.

* * *

What little water and food they provided for him--if the slop could even be called that--stopped coming.

They ceased their trips to the damned operating table, but then they started chaining him up and unleashing unrelenting attacks of all sorts in an effort to activate the Crest-bearing blood they “gifted” him. Magic scorched his skin, hot iron spikes driven straight through his limbs, and sharp blades slashed away at every part of him. If he could see any light in his cell, Hubert was certain they had already painted it red with his blood. Starvation was taking its toll on him. His strength was fading away, the slightest of movements becoming arduous. He felt sick at all times and he could only presume it was his body eating itself in a pitiful attempt to survive these abominable conditions.

The woman jailer scoffed. “We’ve tried everything. Not a single response from the Crest-bearing blood we’ve transfused into him. To think that the results looked so promising...”

Her partner huffed. “Hmph. Another failure. What a waste.”

A boot kicked his side, sending him flying across the room. His back smashed roughly against the wall and he crumpled to the ground. He cursed them under his breath, fists clenching tightly he even as he laid on the floor, powerless and weakened. He heard one of them come closer to him, a dagger held in the masked man’s hand. A knee dug into his back, his spine cracking loudly from the pressure. Hubert could imagine the smile spreading across the man's face as he grabbed a fistful of Hubert’s long, ratty locks and yanked his neck up.

"I don't know why Myson wants to keep you,” he whispered into Hubert’s ear, hot breath puffing against his chilled skin. “After all, the transition has been seamless. No one suspects a thing. Hubert von Vestra has been replaced and the original…is no longer needed.”

A sick giggle. “I cannot wait to see the look upon von Aegir’s face when our agent slays him in his sleep. Imagine the betrayal in his eyes when he sees his husband-to-be become his murderer!"

“Damn shame we won’t be able to see it. You think we’ll get to keep the corpse? Would be a shame to have more of Cichol’s blood going to waste.”

“I hope so. Dead or alive, I’d fuck that man into the ground.”

Unadulterated fury bloomed inside his chest and Hubert could feel every part of him shaking. “If you so much as touch a hair on his head, I’ll  _ kill  _ you.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely terrified,” the woman sneered. “You, of all people, should know when you’ve been beaten. You have no magic, no strength, and no chance of escape. What could you possibly hope to accomplish?”

“What would I accomplish? Nothing more than selfish wishes. But even if I must die here…” His blood boiled underneath his skin, a fire alighting in his chest. Sinister laughs reverberated in his chest. “I don’t care if I have to tear out your throat with my bare hands. I will silence you myself. I will  _ not _ let you speak of him in such a way ever again.”

“Cocky bastard!” the man growled, moving the blade from Hubert’s neck. He lifted the knife, preparing to drive it into Hubert’s back once again. “You have no reason to be laughing!”

The dagger came down. Hubert would not let it stop him, even if it killed him.

A flash of golden light sparked in the dark room, illuminating it briefly.

The pressure on his spine disappeared. The sound of a body crashing against a wall and the knife clattering to the floor echoed in his ears. 

Hubert didn’t waste time trying to figure out what happened. His body moved on its own. He got to his feet, taking the dagger that had fallen to the ground next to him.

The next few moments blurred together. The woman attempted to drive him back with dark magic once she saw her partner was out cold and their prisoner was charging right at her. The spells peeled back and distorted his skin into a nasty purplish-black color, but the rush of adrenaline urged him onward despite the pain. He overpowered her physically, forcing her to the floor. He remembered driving the blade into the woman’s jugular, cutting open the esophagus and ripping a section of it out, replacing screams with the gurgling of blood. He stabbed her, over and over until his own manic laughter was the only thing he heard in the room. When she finally stopped moving, he was dripping wet with her blood. He pulled out of the knife, taking it with him as he went over to her unconscious companion. He grabbed hold of the neck with both arms and twisted with all his might until he heard the satisfying snapping and cracking of bones.

Once his murderous high had settled down and logic finally returned to his mind, Hubert was left exhausted. His limbs ached and trembled, heart hammering in his chest. He slowly stood up, swaying as he did so. His feet squelched against blood pools as he moved to search both bodies.

He found a card key of some sort on the male. He pilfered his clothes and mask as well.

When he stepped out of the cell for the first time of his own accord, he appeared as one of those who slithered in the dark.

The bloody knife in his hand would meet with every neck in the facility. Hubert swore this.

Revenge would finally be his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again, I fight with myself on how well I write with each new work or chapter I do. I always feel like everything I write pales in comparison to everyone else's Ferdibert content. Like Schupuff, diddlydang, and of course the Goddess Bohemienne to name a few.
> 
> I am finally on the Ferdibert Discord server (under the same name, SilverPurity), so I guess if you wanna poke me and chat, feel free to. I don't think I'll ever have the courage to start up a conversation myself, much less put myself or my fanfics out there…I'm literally just Bernadetta von Varley when it comes to socializing.


	3. Chapter 3

“What do you mean ‘something’s wrong’ with Hubie?”

“Forgive me, Dorothea. I did not know who else to turn to. If I brought it up with Edelgard, she would have confronted Hubert about it. I’d rather not worry anyone if it turns out to be nothing and it’s just my nerves getting the better of me.”

“Hubie’s as dour and unsociable as ever. He seems to be acting normal to me.” Dorothea pursed her lips in confusion. “Ferdie, I want to say that it’s just your imagination, but you know Hubie best--better than anyone, really. If you think something’s wrong, then by all means tell me. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to me.” Ferdinand poked his fingers together, unsure of where to start. “Ever since I returned from my imprisonment, it feels as if...he holds no love for me.”

Dorothea spat out her tea, coughing as some of it accidentally went down her windpipe. She beat her chest a couple of times until the hacking died down enough for her to speak again. She stared wide-eyed at Ferdinand, jaw hanging open. “Hubie? No love for you? _What_!?”

“I do not mean it in a physical sense. His actions still speak volumes on how he feels. But…” Ferdinand sighed, trying to find the right words. “I suppose it feels like he’s simply going through the motions for the sake of it. His kisses have no warmth, his touches hold no love. I feel... _nothing_ ; no emotion at all behind those actions anymore. Not to mention it feels like he has been avoiding me this whole time. I waited and waited, hoping that I was mistaken; hoping that something would spark again and he’d return to the way he was. But he hasn’t. It’s been months since then and we are set to be married within the next few Moons. I am worried about him, Dorothea. I wonder if it’s something I’ve done or if there’s a bigger underlying problem he is not telling me. He still likes his secrets, especially those about his work, and I’m not privy to all of them.”

“Oh, Ferdie…” She placed her hand over his in a show of comfort. “I’m sure if you just talk to him and tell him how you feel, he’d explain himself. Hubie would move mountains for you. And if he doesn’t, tell him that I’m going to find him and crush his manhood.”

Ferdinand felt nervous sweat dripping down his neck as a sickly-sweet smile spread across Dorothea’s face. “You are a terrifying woman.”

“It comes with the territory. Edie has taught me a few things too.”

“Do you think I should cancel the wedding plans? At least until I can get this figured out?”

“Do what you need to do, Ferdie. If you need to wait, then wait. The others will understand. Whatever is going on with Hubie, you need to fix it now. So go to him. Show some of that noble determination we all know you have."

Ferdinand nodded before finishing his tea. He set the cup down, thanking Dorothea for spending the afternoon with him. She winked before urging him onward. He had a mission to complete; one that would determine where Hubert and he now stood in their relationship.

Ferdinand loved Hubert with all his heart. Did Hubert still feel the same? He had been so certain at the time of the proposal. What had changed?

Ferdinand could feel his heart pounding in his ears, his throat getting dryer by the moment as he made his way towards Hubert's office. He paused outside the door, taking in a shaky breath as he went to grab the knob.

"Status report, sir."

"Go on."

Ferdinand froze. That was Hubert's voice. He didn't recognize the other person, but he had a sinking feeling he probably shouldn't be eavesdropping on the conversation. Hubert often had to meet with his agents privately so that any information they provided stayed within that room. Such information was "not meant to be heard by those with low constitutions", as Hubert would say. Despite his desire to do the right thing and walk away, something deep inside Ferdinand's soul was urging him to continue listening. He kept his breathing quiet as he gently pressed his ear to the door, muffled voices becoming clearer.

"The subject has been accepting Cichol's blood, but there have been no signs of activation as of yet."

A cruel chuckle escaped from Hubert's throat. "Such delicious irony. The blood of his lover is the only thing keeping him alive at this point."

"What are your orders, sir?"

"Break him." Ferdinand felt chills go down his spine at Hubert's ruthless tone of voice. "Burn him alive. Shave off his flesh down to his muscle and sinew. Crush his bones to dust. Do what you must. If such physical trauma doesn't activate the Crest-bearing blood, then nothing will."

"What shall we do with him if he does not activate the Crest?"

"Keep him for now. When the time comes when I have no further use for him, dispose of him like the rest of the failures."

"As you wish, Lord Myson."

Ferdinand covered his mouth with his hand as he slowly backed away from the door. He didn't get far before both of his arms were grabbed. He spotted masked mages standing on both sides of him. Their slim forms belied their true strength as they forced him forward. They kicked down the door, throwing him inside where he landed roughly on the carpet. Ferdinand grunted as pain slowly blossomed on his stomach. Heavy footsteps sounded nearby and black boots soon entered his vision.

"It's unbecoming of a noble to eavesdrop on the Empire's Spymaster."

Ferdinand glared up at "Hubert" with barely restrained fury. "You are _not_ the Empire's Spymaster."

He felt a hand grab hold of his hair, yanking him up until Ferdinand stood on his knees. The man knelt down to his level. Cold, snake-green eyes bored into him, a sly smirk spreading across "Hubert's" face.

"What gave me away?" He coyly asked. "Or did you not realize your beloved had been replaced until just now?"

Ferdinand felt a rock fall into the pit of his gut as a massive wave of guilt and shame overcame him. He ignored it in favor of channeling his blistering rage towards the vile cretin that dared to wear Hubert's visage in front of him. Ferdinand beat away the arm that had gripped his hair, springing to his feet as he grabbed hold of "Hubert's" cloak collar. He charged forwards until he rammed the fake against the wall. The imposter hung there, looking smug despite his feet dangling a couple inches off the ground. Ferdinand didn't care for the blades and magic pointed at his back. His hatred and anger was boiling over the longer he looked at "Hubert's" face.

" _WHERE._ _IS_. **_HE_ **?!" Ferdinand seethed through clenched teeth. "What have you done to him!?"

"He is alive. For now," the fake answered nonchalantly. "And if you want him to stay that way, you _will_ keep quiet about this little 'discovery'. But I suppose it is a Minister's duty to protect his Empire and Emperor. So go ahead. Alert Her Majesty. Save your homeland from certain destruction. Become a hero once more. All it will cost is the life of the man you love."

Ferdinand's grip tightened, his fists shaking. The fake chuckled as he was lowered to the floor again. The knight peeled his hands away from the dastard, fighting the urge to drive his hidden knife into him. Ferdinand fell to his knees again and an onslaught of tears started to pour from his eyes. The fake walked past him, "Hubert's" sinister laughter echoing in his ears.

"Fools, the both of you. Choosing to save the one you love, risking the life of Her Majesty and the future of Fódlan in the process." The footsteps paused. "You are a pivotal actor on this grand stage, so you would do well to remember this: one slip up from you and he dies. And don't even think about canceling the wedding plans. After all, it simply wouldn't do to go through the trouble of inviting all the leaders of Fódlan only for them to show up to a canceled celebration."

Multiple footsteps disappeared behind him, leaving Ferdinand alone.

"Choosing to save…?" He felt sick to his stomach, heart clenching from the implications of that one sentence. "Oh Goddess…Hubert…"

* * *

When he finally crawled out of that godforsaken hellhole and saw the light of the sun for the first time in Goddess knows how long, Hubert could have cried had he been a lesser man. The gentle caress of the wind against his face, the fragrance of pine trees, the soft twitter of birds; he hadn't realized how much he had missed these simple treasures. His entire form was painted red, the stolen uniform coated with the blood of his tormentors. The knife had dulled from overuse, but it had served its purpose. Not a single soul in that facility had escaped him. His desire for vengeance had been slated for now.

He forced his trembling limbs to move toward the rush of water nearby. The mere sound awoke the long suppressed thirst he had been fighting to keep at bay. Water was life. Life meant food. Food and drink meant survival. Survival meant he would live. To live meant that he would get his chance to eliminate Myson, serve his Emperor, and get to hold onto Ferdinand once again.

What he would give to be held by those warm, loving arms right now. Instead, all that cradled him was the grass and mud that lined the riverbank as he collapsed from exhaustion. As he lowered his head down to drink the opaque liquid before him, he caught a brief glimpse of his reflection.

His time as a captive had taken its toll on him. 

Hubert grimaced at his state of his own appearance. Sharp cheekbones were more pronounced than ever before. Dark bags had formed under his eyes and his pallor had gotten worse, making him look more like a walking skeleton than a human being. Greasy black hair reached past his shoulders, the locks stringy and their ends split.

His relief upon seeing the familiar pigment was immense. However, there were some white strands strewn about in the rat's nest that was his hair--likely due to the stress and torture he had gone through. The last thing he wanted to do was be a walking reminder of Lady Edelgard's own torturous past.

He slowly began removing the red-crusted clothing, every movement alighting a flame in his throbbing body. The cloth material felt heavier than he ever remembered it being. Then, crawling like some wretched pest, he forced himself into the freezing water to try and clean off the red stains coating him. As he began to wash away the blood and grime, he became acutely aware of just how much his body had changed.

Muscle had whittled away, leaving behind bony limbs. No amount of rubbing and scratching could remove the many scars that decorated his arms, legs, and torso. Some of them mirrored the scars that marred Lady Edelgard's body.

It was disgusting. Infuriating. To think those monsters had inflicted such suffering upon Lady Edelgard and her siblings. They were mere children at the time. It was no wonder they either died or were consumed by madness. His admiration for his Emperor grew and it strengthened his desire to keep her safe from any further harm caused by those vile creatures.

But what would Ferdinand think of him if he saw him now?

As they grew more comfortable around the other, they both had taken the time to marvel and cherish all the imperfections that marked their bodies. Ferdinand had encountered many close calls during the war. Some of those wounds were caused by Hubert himself. Those would be the ones he always placed gentle kisses to, wishing to remove the blemishes. They served as reminders of his own mistakes, even if Ferdinand had forgiven him long ago. War was war and it favored no one.

Thinking back on those wistful nights, he could feel the delicate touch of calloused fingers intertwining with his. Plush lips brushed against black-stained knuckles, which were held almost reverently by his beloved. Then, those same hands would skitter over his arms and up to his shoulders before finding their place on the nape of his neck. Pulled forward, that warm inviting mouth would be pressed against his own, pouring out unreserved love for him.

Every discoloration, every rough patch of skin, every single scar made by a scalpel became harder to ignore as his hand moved over his limbs to remove the filth that coated him. Would Ferdinand be sickened by the sight of him now? Hubert’s stomach lurched painfully at the thought, renewing the awful nausea that had been plaguing him recently.

Fingers dug into the muddy riverbank as his stomach lurched again, the sour taste of bile climbing up his throat. He slammed a hand over his mouth as he began to heave. A few seconds later, he was vomiting out stomach acid onto his hand and into the water. Everything burned as his body continued to try to remove something that simply wasn't there. He wasn't sure how long he laid there in the mud gasping for breath, fighting against the urge to dry-heave again as his stomach pulsed painfully.

_He's still preparing for his wedding,_ the traitorous voice in the back of his mind whispered. _He doesn't even know that he's marrying a fake. He's left you here to rot._

Hubert quashed the doubtful whispers into dust, burying them deep in his subconscious once again. He had grown used to them, popping up uninvited whenever he felt like his situation couldn't get any worse. Such thoughts plagued him ever since those blasted scumbags started feeding him their lies. Until he saw Ferdinand for himself with his own eyes, he would not give in to his own imagination.

But he knew, without a shred of doubt, that if Ferdinand rejected him as he was now...it would end him. Ferdinand was his everything. The one person he had opened his heart to. The one person who accepted him for who he was and loved him regardless of the deeds he had done. The one person he would dedicate his second life to if he had another to spare. He doubted he would ever be able to open up to anyone else ever again.

"Ferdinand…Lady Edelgard…" he rasped out, forcing himself up out of the mud. "I'll be by your side again soon. I swear it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHHH THIS CHAPTER IS SO BAD AND SO SHORT I'M SO SORRY GUYS
> 
> But I've been fighting with it for over a month now and I just wanted to get it done so I can move on to the good(?) stuff. It's not nearly as long as I would like (I generally like writing chapters that are about 4k words long), but I could not for the life of me figure out how to stretch out another 2000 words out of this one. So...maybe I should just wing it with the lengths? Otherwise, I'm never going to get this story done and I'd rather not leave people hanging on cliffhangers for months on end. Cause if I get stuck, I get STUCK BAD. And if I get STUCK BAD, then I drop writing altogether and it becomes abandoned until I get the sudden inspiration to get over that block. Which sometimes happens YEARS later or never happens at all. I know how I am. I've done it on fanfiction.net countless times.
> 
> Long story short: Screw the chapter lengths, I have Ferdibert to write!

**Author's Note:**

> Welp...it's the long awaited beginning of Aria's origin story. Please be gentle with me. I'm already hesitant and worried about it as is...


End file.
